I Do Not Love You
by Paceismyhero
Summary: Short A/U future fic where Rachel and Puck are a couple living together while trying to make it in NYC. The story is based on a song that will be revealed at the end (or by the title, if you're that familiar with it). Rated M for Puck's mouth and minor adult content. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1: Rachel's POV

**Author's Note:** I tried copying and pasting this story, but the format was all crazy. I think I fixed it, but I apologize in advance if things still look weird.

Regardless, this is just a little piece based on a song that will be revealed at the end (otherwise it won't have the affect it should). It's three parts only because the first part is Rachel's POV, the second is Puck's POV, and the third part is both of theirs. The parts are super short, thought, so the plan is to update this twice today and finish it tomorrow.

I'd love to know what you think of it, though, so let me know! Thanks in advance!

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Rachel turned the key in the last lock on her apartment door, shoving the heavy piece of metal open and using far too much energy to close it. A long, relieved sigh left her lungs the second she toed off her high-heeled shoes and she barely had enough mind to move them away from the entrance to the apartment. Her steps through the apartment were exaggerated, indicating just how tired she was after a full day of rehearsals followed by a closing shift at the restaurant nearby where she worked. As she made her way to the bedroom and smiled at just the sight of her bed, exhausted was clearly an understatement. Slipping into a clean pair of underwear and a shirt that was twice her size, Rachel stuffed the discarded pieces of her uniform into her hamper. She had tomorrow off and much of it would need to be spent doing laundry; her entire wardrobe was starting to absorb the scent of Italian food that somehow clung to the fibers of her clothes even though she was only the hostess. Outside of that she only had a few other remedial tasks that wouldn't nearly take up as much of her day as today, which she realized was an issue as she crawled into bed and felt the pang of emptiness she'd been avoiding all day.

Reluctantly, her eyes shifted to her left, noting the empty side with another long sigh. Today had been long and she should be able to just close her eyes and pass out, but Rachel knew it wouldn't be that easy. She'd tossed and turned all last night, just trying to get comfortable without the feel of his body next to her. Although, even if she could manage to push aside the uneasiness of him not being in bed with her, Rachel knew better than to assume her mind would let her forget why he wasn't there.

Being busy allowed her to ignore the conversation they'd had yesterday. She'd been forced to focus on the dance moves or her dialogue or table seven and not on the way he'd segued into some excuse about working late and a big project and how he'd call her later (which he hadn't). She hadn't even thought about how she'd stupidly let those three words slip clearly too soon to a man who had never uttered them himself outside of a night months ago that involved way too much alcohol - and even that was to his male best friend who just so happened to be dragging said drunken man out of a bar and into a cab.

Alone in bed, however, with nothing but the sounds of the city filtering up through the partially open window, all Rachel could do was think. Think about how miserable she'd been all day, think about how she wondered if he'd ever come back - they lived together, but she dramatically considered whether he'd buy all new stuff just to avoid her - and think about how, no matter what, she refused to regret it. They'd been together for a year, friends (and roommates) for longer, and she was sick of beating around the bush. She was one phenomenal review away from making it on Broadway and twenty-five years old in just a few months. She had every right to say what she felt, especially when it was something that had been (somewhat unknowingly) building inside her since they were kids.

But still, when she turned to her side and stared at the clock that painfully reminded her that it would be morning in just a few short hours and he obviously wasn't coming home, Rachel couldn't help but replay the pivotal moment in the conversation from yesterday afternoon.

_"I'm not you, babe. This is like, the only decent job in the city I could get and I ain't gonna __fuck that up by trying to tell anyone what to do."_

_"I'm not asking you to tell them what to do," Rachel insisted. "You said they've painted __themselves into a corner and are asking your team to get them out of it. You could get them out __of it. You have so much talent and if you just …"_

_"It doesn't matter. Don't you get it? I'm just a backup guitarist for some second-rate __studio. I can't just go up to a bunch of guys way better off than I'll ever be and show them my __shitty tattered notebook of lyrics." Noah groaned. "You should see the shit real songwriters do … __full out presentations and portfolios and …" He sighed. "Once a Lima Loser, always one."_

_"Don't ever say that!" Rachel stomped her foot. "You're not a Lima Loser. You never __have been, and I'm tired of you continuing to use that hideous label as an excuse to hold __yourself back! Your talent and charisma has landed you a position that is merely a stepping __stone to everything that you can do … things I know you want to do. You're a beautiful lyricist, __Noah. Your writing is so diverse, spanning so many musical genres that I just know you're going __to be so successful the moment you allow yourself to believe. And I don't care if I have to remind __you every single day until you do. I'll do it because I love you and believe in you enough for the __both of us."_

Rachel woke with a jolt, the sound of the door slamming echoing in her scattered brain. She blinked her eyes repeatedly in an effort to wake just a bit quicker, though she wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep or for how long. At that moment, however, she didn't care. Instead, Rachel was solely focused on her surroundings, waiting to hear the other telltale signs of his arrival. Keys falling to the small table kept by the door where they intended to keep the mail (but was often used as the first flat surface when stumbling passionately into their apartment), the opening of the refrigerator, footsteps drawing nearer … anything.

Unfortunately, as her focus grew clearer, Rachel noticed a heap of clothes by the closet (but never in the hamper) and could smell the faint aroma of his soap lingering in the air. The sound of the door was not his entrance, but rather his exit. He'd snuck in and out, refusing to face her like the man she'd foolishly admitted to loving.

With a huff, Rachel scooted out of bed, kicking at the pile of his worn clothes as she made her way out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen. She rummaged around for an adequate breakfast, but her appetite was nonexistent the second she noticed he'd downed nearly the entire jug of orange juice (leaving just a sip so he could put it back in the fridge instead of writing it down on the grocery list). Bracing her hands on the counter, Rachel breathed in deep. She held the calming breath for a full minute, then released it slowly. Stretching her neck to the left and then to the right, her gaze happened upon a new stack of papers that she knew weren't hers (those were organized neatly in the office).

Biting her lip and trying to decipher the ethics of the situation (it was her apartment, after all, so anything was fair game, right?), she slowly meandered closer and closer until, whether she wanted to or not, Rachel could read the top piece of paper. His characteristic messy scrawl covered the once white paper, now more black and faded gray in areas where the scribbled out words were re-written too soon and had smudged. The only color on the paper was a bright red, scattered throughout what she guessed were lyrics that had been edited and, where her eyes had fallen, the title.

**I Do Not Love You**

Her breath caught in her throat, tears instantly clinging to the corners of her eyes. There it was, for all intents and purposes, in black and white. Even after everything - no returned sentiment, two nights spent alone, no phone calls - Rachel hadn't expected it. He usually needed time alone to process things of similar magnitude; she'd called him emotionally retarded once as a joke, but it'd caught on. Often it just led to an awkward (on his part) conversation where he'd admit to feeling the same way or explain why he'd reacted a certain way.

Apparently this time, there was going to be no such conversation.


	2. Chapter 2: Puck's POV

**Author's Note:** Wow. Such an awesome response for such a little fic. Hang in there. One more part after this one, and I promise you'll want to stick it out!

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Puck jogged up the stairs, twirling his keys in his hand and trying to suppress his smile from widening beyond the point that was socially acceptable when you weren't in the middle of a conversation or watching something funny. He'd had maybe three hours of sleep in the past 50 or so hours, and all of that had been on an albeit comfortable as hell couch in his boss's office, but he was more awake than ever. There was so much adrenaline coursing through him and he could barely contain his excitement as he swung open the apartment door and called for his girlfriend.

"Babe?" He called again after no answer, almost sprinting through their place in search of the petite brunette. She'd been sound asleep this morning when he'd stopped by just to shower and grab a bite before rushing back to the studio. It had been like torture leaving her, too, when he'd seen her asleep in nothing but one of his shirts - well, he'd won it at a Knicks game and it was too big for him (which meant it was way too big for her, but it was kind of hot).

Opening the door to their office/music room, he smiled at the sight of her head bobbing slightly to whatever music was playing through his oversized headphones. She looked so tiny squeezed between the large earpieces, and he couldn't help but laugh as he thought about reminding her how much shit she'd given him about how bad they were for his hearing when he'd bought them. Apparently the noise-cancelling feature was conducive to getting lost in your own little world, though, which was exactly what Rachel did whenever she was working on her craft.

"Noah," Rachel gasped, moving away from him when he'd pushed the hair off her shoulder.

She was wearing some loose sweater thing over one of those thin tank tops and there was something ridiculously sexy about her shoulder being bare - any exposed skin of hers was generally a good thing. So good, in fact, that he honestly considered bailing on the previous plans to spend the rest of the evening in bed with her instead. And even though he would be exhausted once he crashed from his current high, Puck knew they wouldn't do much sleeping if they went down that path.

"Keep the top, but change into some jeans or something." He kissed the top of her shoulder, unable to help himself. "We're going out."

Rachel frowned. "I'm actually quite busy."

"Really?" His eyes scanned the apartment from his spot now by the doorway, noting the basket of folded laundry that he could see sitting on their bed and the low hum of the dishwasher. "S'your day off."

Rachel just shrugged, her eyes falling while her hands busied themselves tidying up the papers she'd been working on when he'd walked in. Puck instantly got the feeling he was in trouble - it was a feeling he was very familiar with, so he'd quickly learned to distinguish it. He wracked his brain trying to think of their last conversation, which was basically two days ago and he hadn't exactly been in the best of moods. That seemed like a good jumping-off point.

"We've both been busy as shit and it sucks. But, I had like … the best night ever and now I wanna celebrate with you. C'mon."

"I-I just don't think I should."

Swing and a miss.

"Look, I didn't mean to yell at ya or whatever the other day. I was pissed about work and you actually helped because …"

"It's fine," she interrupted, her head still down. "I understand. Your job is important to you."

Strike two.

"You are, too, though. If it weren't for you, I'd never … I had the best night at work and I want you to see why." Puck smirked, trying to hide his excitement - and the secret. "The guy we were working with is testin' out one song at a coffee place nearby and I wanna buy one of those shitty chai things for my girl."

"I'm happy for you, Noah." Rachel sighed, her tight smile fading. "But, I just don't think it would be wise … not, not if I'm going to finish everything before my flight."

Hit by the pitch. Take your base!

"What?" Puck stepped back into the office, confusion written all over his face. "Where ya going?"

Rachel moved her chair so she wasn't facing him any longer, her attention on the stack of papers again even as she spoke to him. "I've decided to take the weekend to visit with my fathers." She inhaled a deep, shaky breath. "We … I haven't seen them since Hanukkah last year because I've been so busy and Daddy has been begging me to help him with the surprise party for Father's birthday and …" She trailed off, lifting one shoulder emptily as she doodled on the top right corner of the top piece of paper. "I thought this might give us both some time … to think."

"Think?" He asked, his voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you thinkin' about?"

"Don't take that tone with me," Rachel reprimanded.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't, but whatever. "I'm just tryin' to catch up." Puck took a few breaths, trying out that breathing bullshit Rachel always said helped calm her down. It wasn't working. "Legit, you're kinda killin' my buzz."

Rachel narrowed her gaze. "I apologize, Noah." She stood, all but stomping past him. "I'm sorry I'm such a terrible burden on your life."

"Oh, Jesus." Puck rolled his eyes, following after her even though he knew she was just moving to avoid him. "S'not what I fuckin' meant." He sighed heavily, watching her start to empty the dishwasher. "Did somethin' happen at the play? Or at the restaurant? Is Dana being a bitch again?"

"No," she replied shortly, which just made him more pissed.

So much for his good mood.


	3. Chapter 3: Both POVs

**Author's Note:** And here it is, the end. Thank you to everyone who reviewed (to the guests, especially, since I can't thank you through PMs). It means a lot that you guys enjoyed a story that only happened because I listened to a new song. Haha.

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Puck watched Rachel put away dish after dish, deliberately refusing to acknowledge his presence outside of mumbling about how she had a lot of cleaning to finish. "Can you just fuckin' stop?"

He walked forward, grabbing each of her wrists to keep her from putting away the plates that were in her hands. She flinched at his touch, which made him hold her tighter. In an effort to yank her hands free, Rachel dropped the plates she'd been holding, the sound of them crashing back into the luckily empty dishwasher tray echoing in the room along with her high-pitched yelp when one landed near her foot and broke into several small pieces.

"Careful!" Puck growled when she tried to step out of the way, keeping his one hand tight around her wrist to prevent her from moving while he kicked closed the dishwasher and moved the other arm across her waist. Puck scooped Rachel into him, securing her safely against his body as he walked out of the kitchen and to the living room. He dropped her down onto the couch, not even looking at her before going back to clean up the mess. When he was all done and put away the broom, he looked up and saw Rachel standing on the other side of the counter bar top.

"Thank you," she said softly, her eyes cast downward. "For helping me."

Puck sighed, resting his hands on each side of the kitchen sink. "Well you cleaned everything else, so …"

His tone was bitter, and she cowered a little more as a result. "I didn't mean that, though I appreciate it as well."

Puck walked around the kitchen counter through the dining room exit instead of through the doorway beside the hallway. His eyes landed on a stack of papers that he forgot he'd left in the apartment when he'd stopped by this morning. He recognized the top piece of paper even in the distance, and he was reminded of how excited he'd been when he'd walked into the apartment.

Rachel cleared her throat, daring to look up at him though not allowing herself to step any closer despite that he was nearly within reaching distance now. "I meant, for protecting me."

"Protect what ya love," he stated absently as his eyes skimmed over the rough piece of paper. Her sharp inhale of breath caught his attention, though, his brows furrowing at her shocked expression. "What?"

Rachel stepped forward then rocked back on her heel, her hands wringing in front of her. She released her bottom lip from between her teeth, trying not to stammer as she said, "I just … assumed otherwise based on …" She trailed off, jutting her chin toward the piece of paper still resting in his hands. "I might have accidentally seen the title."

Puck looked down at the piece of paper, up toward Rachel, then back down again. The red ink he'd used last night to make the edits on the song he'd written months ago stared back at him almost mockingly, and he couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Accidentally, huh?"

"I was going to take them to the office, but I … well, I was a little sidetracked after I saw the title, so I …"

Rachel's explanation was cut short, Puck's lips covering hers in one swift motion. His strong muscles kept her body from falling apart completely, but her brain prohibited her from responding fully to the kiss. She was still so torn emotionally, having spent most of the day depressed and then moving toward anger once they'd started fighting and now perplexed not just at how easily he'd expressed the sentiment she'd been wanting to hear for so long but also as to why his mood had quickly turned around.

"You shoulda kept readin'," Puck said once the embrace was over, pushing the paper into her chest with one hand while the other grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the living room. "Stay."

"Noah," Rachel chastised, her gaze following his retreating form instead of looking at the paper now in her possession as instructed.

"Stay," he repeated when she started to get up from the couch after he'd reappeared with his guitar. He dragged one of the chairs from the table by the window closer, sitting down and tuning his guitar before demanding, "Listen."

I do not love you for the way you kiss  
Though your lips, they can put me at ease  
And I do not love you for your sweet green eyes  
Though I love when they're lookin' at me  
And I do not love you for the way your hands  
Can touch me and quiet my soul  
I love you for all of this, and so much more

I do not love you for the way you dress  
Though you do look so lovely tonight  
And I do not love you for the things you know  
Though I've always admired your mind  
And I do not love you for the way I feel  
That first moment you walk through the door  
I love you for all of this, and so much more

And all I know is you're the part of me that keeps me strong  
And what I want is for us to face forever  
Standing up together, eyes turned toward the heavens, arm in arm

I do not love you for the way my heart  
Seems to live somewhere inside your chest  
And I do not love you for the way your arms  
They can hold me until I forget  
And I do not love you for the way you've been  
Exactly what I'm looking for  
I love you for all of this, and so much more

I love you for all of this, and so much more

Rachel sat sunken into their couch, utterly speechless after hearing the words on the paper she was now clenching so tightly come to life in her living room. He looked so adorably happy and proud, and yet so entirely devoted to her that she couldn't loathe herself more for doubting his feelings for more than a moment. "Noah …"

"I did what ya said, babe." Puck set the guitar down, moving to sit next to her on the couch. "I went into the studio and laid it all on the line and showed them what I could do to help with the album. And they loved it. We made a few changes, obviously - I know your eyes are brown - but it's goin' right on the dude's record and my boss wants to see what else I have."

Rachel couldn't contain herself. She crawled into his lap and just started kissing him, knowing there was no way she'd ever be able to express just what she was feeling at that moment. She was so proud of him and so happy to not only hear that others were finally appreciating his talent but to hear that he was recognizing it himself. And the song … she'd always known he allowed himself to be more open in his music, but she still couldn't get over just how honest those words were. And they were for her.

"I love you," he whispered huskily, his forehead resting against hers as they both caught their breaths. "I probaby have since high school and I'm shit if ya really didn't know that by now."

Rachel shook her head, silencing him once again with her lips. She cradled his jaw in her hands, the tips of her fingers playing with the short strands of hair on the back of his neck. She mewled at the feel of his arms tightening around her waist, deepening the kiss when she could feel the affect she was having on him. How could she have ever doubted this man?

"I love you, too." She kissed him again before wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tenderly. "And I love your song."

"Ya still wanna go listen to it at the coffee shop?"

"Are you still buying?"

Puck could feel her smile and he chuckled into her neck, his arms loosening from around her waist and skimming her bare legs. "If you're good."

Rachel hummed, tilting her head a bit so she could whisper right into his ear. "I think I might prefer to stay here. With you."

Puck groaned low in his throat, his grip tightening again before he pulled back slightly, a smirk perched on his face. "Ya gonna wear my Knicks shirt again?"

"If you're good." Rachel giggled, standing up from his lap and walking toward their bedroom, tossing over her shoulder, "I think I need help getting out of these clothes first, though."

Puck moaned. "God, I love you."

* * *

**Author's Note #2:** For those who hadn't already guessed, the song is Ron Pope's "I Do Not Love You". If you haven't heard the song (or, heaven forbid, _him, _please go to YouTube and check it/him out. He's amazing.


End file.
